


Occupied

by anythingbutplatonic



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, M/M, Mpreg, Nerd!Blaine, Skank!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutplatonic/pseuds/anythingbutplatonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet-cute drabble with skank!Kurt and nerd!Blaine. And mpreg. Originally posted on Tumblr January 27th 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occupied

Everyone knew the bleachers on the edge of the football field were Skank territory. No-one except the Skanks ever went there, either because they were repelled by the strong smell of cigarette smoke that lingered perpetually around the bleachers or because they were afraid of the leather-jacketed Skanks themselves, and anyone who did was either looking for trouble or had a death wish.

So when Kurt skipped AP Biology that afternoon, planning to take full advantage of the free hour now open to him to smoke a cigarette or two and listen to music in quite solitude while he watched the football players run laps around the field through the narrow gaps in the bleachers and tried to figure out which one of them had the lowest IQ, he was stunned to find that his usual spot was already occupied.

By Blaine Anderson.

 

Blaine was McKinley’s resident nerd and goody-two-shoes, right down to the overly large glasses he wore and the shine of his highly-polished loafers. He was also the jocks’ favourite punching bag.

Today, though, he looked even more weedy and pathetic than he usually did, hunched over on one of the benches with his arms folded firmly around his middle, staring at the ground as if he was hoping he might bore straight through it, or that it would open up and swallow him down into its depths.

Kurt leaned against one of the metal railings, arms crossed, clicking his tongue as he waited for Blaine to notice him and take the hint that he should leave. He didn’t. In fact, he didn’t even seem to have noticed that Kurt was there at all. 

Another minute passed and Kurt gave up his waiting; instead, he stomped over to his usual bench, took out a rather squashed packet of cigarettes, pulled one out and lit it, waiting for the tip to flare up bright orange before putting it to his lips and taking a long drag, blowing a plume of dirty grey smoke into the air.

Then he heard Blaine begin to cough somewhere behind him, before there was a creak of wood and metal and a thundering of footsteps, and then the sound of retching and more coughing, which actually made Kurt pause with his cigarette halfway to his lips and turn to look in the direction of the sound. 

Blaine was bent double over the trash can the Skanks used to dispose of beer bottles and cigarettes and report cards that had Fs on them in thick red marker, gagging and coughing in a way that made even Kurt wince.

When he was done, Blaine shakily sat down on the very end of the bench Kurt himself was sitting on, taking great, shuddering breaths, and rested his forehead on his knees.

Feeling suddenly quite sorry for him, Kurt put out his cigarette, stamping it into the ground with one heavy boot. He pushed a hand through his pink-streaked hair and absently teased the piercing on his lip - a sixteenth-birthday gift to himself - with his tongue before asking, “You okay?”

Blaine stared at him with round, bloodshot eyes. “What do you care?” he spit at him, taking Kurt aback with the venom in his voice. “No-one cares. All you do is take my glasses and - and steal my homework and knock my books to the ground every time you see me in the hallways. No-one cares,” he repeated, turning away from Kurt and wrapping his arms around himself again.

“I was merely making conversation,” Kurt replied, but he was privately stung Blaine’s rebuke.  _He_  had never done anything to him personally. Sure, he might have mocked his bowties in a private conversation with another Skank or made a joke about how much gel he used in his hair, but he’d never done any of those other things he was clearly so upset and angry about. “To be fair, you’re in my territory, so I’m allowed to ask you all the questions I want.”

“Well,  _don’t_!” Blaine burst out angrily, standing up and turning to face him, clutching his satchel to his chest like a lifeline. “I don’t - I don't  _need_  this from you, okay? I know you think you’re -  _hard_  or cool or edgy or whatever, just because you dye your hair crazy colours and have five piercings and - and a  _tattoo_  or something, but it doesn’t mean you get to walk all over me, okay? You don’t get to do that. I may not be popular and God knows that I am  _not_  the coolest kid at this school, but don’t I deserve the same treatment as everyone else? Don’t I - don’t I deserve not to get treated like a pile of crap every single day?  _Dammit!_ ” he swore violently. “I just - I just want people to leave me alone. That’s all I want.”

Kurt listened to this speech with bemused interest, leaning back on his hands and stretching out his long legs in front of him. “Jeez,” he said after a while, “who pissed in your coffee this morning?”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Blaine roared, face colouring bright red with anger, hands balling into fists before relaxing and falling to his sides. He took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes furiously, but Kurt saw the tears that leaked out down his cheeks.

Jesus Christ, this kid was a basket case. 

“I’m sorry,” Blaine sniffled. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have - I mean, you’re a Skank, what the hell am I thinking? If I piss you off you’re going to have all your Skank friends follow me after school and beat me up. Aren’t you?”

“No.” Kurt said simply. “I won’t do that.”

“Good. Because it wouldn’t be a very good idea." 

Kurt snorted. Blaine was tiny, and didn’t look like weighed all that much. He doubted he could fend off a group of Skanks if they came after him. "And why is that?" 

"Because I’m pregnant.”

Now it was Kurt’s turn to choke and cough, and rather violently; a strange, hysterical laugh burst from his chest. “ _You?_  Pregnant? Wow, that’s a good story if I ever did hear one. I didn’t think a nerd like you could get anyone to date you, let alone have  _sex_ with you.”

“Nope.” Blaine said, enunciating the word so that his lips popped on the ‘p’. “It’s true. And I’m probably going to have to drop out of school, which means I won’t be going to college. And that means I won’t be able to get a job. And I’ll be stuck here, in Lima, for the rest of my life. All because I thought that someone could actually love me and I was stupid to believe them when they told me they did.”

 _Ouch_. Well, that sucked. Kurt found himself feeling - guilty? For laughing. For acting so nonchalant. For acting  _callous_. 

Blaine didn’t deserve this. Nobody did.

“Who’s the guy?” Kurt asked. When Blaine didn’t respond, he prompted, “The other father?”

“This college guy I met when I was doing campus tours? I don’t - I really don’t feel comfortable discussing this with you. I don’t even know why I told you, it’s not like you care.”

“I do care,” Kurt said, and he was just as surprised as Blaine was by the words that rolled off his tongue. “It’s not fair that this guy hurt you like that. That he left you alone like this.”

He remembered Quinn. How scared she had been when she’s discovered she was pregnant. How she’d lied because she didn’t want anyone to know that she’d cheated on her boyfriend, that the baby was his. Her fears over whether she would be able to live out her future, now, the way she had planned it, with this new and unexpected twist in the story that had thrown everything for a loop.

She’d coped with it by cutting all ties with the father, giving up her baby for adoption, and becoming a Skank. Somehow he didn’t think that Blaine had that option open to him.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Blaine begged him. “Please. I haven’t even told my family yet - the only one who knows is Miss Pillsbury. No-one else can find out.”

“They won’t,” Kurt replied. “I won’t tell." 

Somewhere in the distance, the bell rang to signal the end of fourth period. 

Blaine shifted, adjusted his glasses. "I guess I better go. I can’t skip another class today." 

"Leaving so soon?” Kurt feigned disappointment. “You don’t  _have_  to go to class, you know. You look like hell, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know,” Blaine gave a wry smile. “But like I said, no-one will care. I really do have to get to class. But -” He stopped, as if he was unsure of what he should say next. “Thank you.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Go on, loser. Go get your As or Bs or whatever it is you so desperately crave. At least now I can smoke without hearing you puking up a lung.”

Blaine moved to leave, but just before he turned the corner and vanished out of sight, Kurt called out to him, “Blaine?”

Blaine stopped, doubled back. “Yeah?”

“If you want to come back here - you can. If anyone gives you any crap, tell them I gave you permission to be here. Kurt Hummel’s orders.”

“Thanks.”

“It’ll be okay,” Kurt said, and he genuinely meant it. “You’ll figure it out.”

Blaine didn’t say anything, just nodded and turned the corner and disappeared. 

Kurt lit another cigarette. Protecting Blaine Anderson was his responsibility now. And he’d do his damned best to make sure nothing happened to him because of this.

 

 


End file.
